


On becoming insane

by StolenMidnightKisses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Insane Harry Potter, POV Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenMidnightKisses/pseuds/StolenMidnightKisses
Summary: He no longer knows who he is. Harry or Voldemort? Tom or Potter? Is there even a distinction at all?What does it matter when his sanity is slipping through his fingers?





	On becoming insane

Tom. Harry. Potter. Riddle. Voldemort. The names sunk through his mind (was it his, he didn't know, not when the boundaries between their minds were so erased). Harry and Voldemort, Tom and Harry, the names entwined and fused between his head. His fingers jerked as he moved them, making his bed mechanically (was it his, or was it Voldemorts? Or was he Voldemort? He didn't know, couldn't tell), and opened the curtains. It was red, red and red (shouldn't it be green, no he'd finished school a long time ago. So what was he doing here? And red, Merlin, so much like blood) he shivered, confused as to where his clothes were (on the floor or in his wardrobe? Did he have a wardrobe?).

He stumbled on the way to the bathroom, unable to tell whether he was wearing shoes or not, whether he had carpet or stone beneath his feet, how tall he was, whether he had hair. He flashed back and forth, eyes going from green to red and back to green in the mirror. Voldemort and Harry, Tom and Potter. Merlin. Merlin. The walls fluctuated, going from different shades and different sizes in a second as he flashed forward and back between bodies (but which as his own?). He could swear that that reptilian skin belonged to someone else, but how could it when it was him? Voldemort and Harry, Tom and Potter. Where did one end and the other begin? Was there even an end or begining?

There was someone talking to him, worriedly, he blinked up at them and the person gasped, and stumbled, and then he blinked again and the person gasped again.

"Harry mate, you okay? Your eyes, they just-" He toned them out. Harry, yes. He was Harry. Or was he? The name Tom suited him equally well. What did it matter? It was a name, a name to a person, 2 people, someone, somewhere. Merlin. There was Bellatrix striding down the corridor towards him, faithful follower, murderer, no. No. He was back to his bedroom and there was that person, still talking.

Red hair. Red like the colour of this room and blood. It was cloying him, suffocating him, dripping down his fingers like his sanity. But who was he? Red hair, Weasley. Friend, enemy.

He was walking again, down a corridor. But which one? His or the others? And which one was his? He didn't know couldn't tell.

He was insane, Merlin, or close enough to it. He had to concentrate, a war to plan against the insufferable Light. But wasn't he Light? Against war? Why was he planning it? Who was he Goddamnit?

Who or what or where?

The world pressed into his bones, tumbling inwards and out at he same time and he was falling, falling and walking at the same time. Someone was shouting his name. But where? And which name? He couldn't tell, couldn't tell _who was he_? The ground was hard below him in both instances at least, they both breathed out a sigh at not having to deal with 2 different feelings at once and they sighed in relief before someone reached one of them. Was it him or Potter? Or Tom?

There was laughter somewhere, ringing, Merlin stop, _stop_. It was high and cruel and warm and low at the same time, joining together and battling at the same time (was that him? He was insane _insane_ , why was this happening?).

The world groaned to a stop like the hearts of all those people he'd killed (no he'd never kill, never), and he floated to blissful oblivion.

Tom. Harry. Voldemort. Potter.

He didn't know who he was anymore.


End file.
